


Moiety

by CheekyAndFlirtatious



Series: Sabriel Week 2012 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, Suicidal Thoughts, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyAndFlirtatious/pseuds/CheekyAndFlirtatious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[noun] || one of two equal parts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moiety

_“Are you sure you want to do this, Sammy? No turning back once we do.”_

_“I want this,” Sam reassured. “I need this.”_

_Gabriel smiled, taking Sam’s face in his hands. Slowly, a brilliant light and warmth overtook them both._

Sam sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall in front of him with sightless eyes. There was nothing to him but the steady _pound, pound, pound_ of pain overtaking his core, always, forever.

_Heat welled up inside of Sam, filling up every crevice of his being and swelling with a pulse like a heartbeat, but not. Sam suspected it should be too much, that the heat should burn him up and pour out of him, but it didn’t. It felt right, like Sam had finally found something he had been missing all his life._

_A hand touched Sam’s face. Warmth and pure energy called out to him from that hand. Sam recognized it. It was his own warmth, his own energy, that same energy that filled up all the small spaces in Sam._

_“Sam,” whispered a soft, melodic voice, full of beautiful power. “Open your eyes, Sam.”_

_Sam obeyed the voice, looking up into joyous, honey-colored eyes._

_“It’s done, Sam,” Gabriel said, smiling._

_Sam nodded. He knew now. That warmth he felt inside of him was Gabriel’s grace, his grace now, too. Sam grinned, stretching up from his laying position to press a kiss to Gabriel’s lips. When he pulled back, he looked at Gabriel with slight confusion. “How does it work?”_

_“Pretty much like that, but if you need more instruction,” Gabriel trailed off, eyebrows jumping up and down in suggestion as he leaned in for another kiss._

_Sam laughed, allowing Gabriel to scatter soft kisses across his face. “No, I mean, this whole… thing. I guess I didn’t really think about it before, but we still have our bodies and we’re-”_

_“One being, two bodies, that’s all.”_

_“How? If we’re separate…”_

_Gabriel gripped Sam’s hand tightly._

_“We aren’t.”_

_Holding both their hands up at eye level, Gabriel pulled his own hand away. As he did, a shining cord appeared to Sam, connecting their ring fingers. It was made of glowing white and gold, soul and grace, wrapped so tightly around each other that it was impossible to tell them apart._

_“It’ll always connect us, no matter how far apart we have to be.”_

Sam stroked absently over the twine hanging from his left ring finger. It had only taken a week for his body to completely adjust to his newly received grace, allowing him to see the connecting thread at all times. It had been a comfort to see at one point. Now its glow had faded, and it had begun to shrivel and blacken. Sam pinched its frayed end, the sharp pain he received a welcome change from the strum of _pain, pain, pain, broken, gone, **broken**._

_“Dean, we have to go back!”_

_Dean refused to slow down._

_“No, Sam. He sent you out for a reason.”_

_“Because he’s an idiot!”_

_“Because you and Gabriel can’t be in the same place as Lucifer at the same time! He’ll use you against each other and you know it!”_

_“He’ll use us against each other anyway! Me not being there just means I can’t help him.” Dean didn’t say anything, but Sam pushed forward. “And it’s not like I’m not there! I am, I’m wherever Gabriel is, I just can’t_ do _anything.”_

_Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Sam cut him off by screaming. Arching-up-off-the-seat-and-shrieking-until-his-throat-is-raw screaming. Dean pulled off the road as fast as he possibly can and cried, “Sammy?! Sammy?!” while he shook his brother’s shoulders, but there was nothing to Sam but the sound of his own screams, the roaring in his ears, and the feeling of being torn apart, of half of his entire being burning away._

“Sammy?” Dean kneeled in front of Sam, directly in his line of vision, laying a hand on his cheek to pull him into the present. “I made breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Sam responded quietly, voice scratchy with disuse. He didn’t feel hunger anymore. He only felt the _pain, pain, pain_.

“You gotta eat, Sammy,” insisted Dean, voice heavy with emotion. He’d spent the last five weeks caring for his near catatonic brother, force feeding him and giving him sleeping pills so he would slip into unconsciousness each night. It killed Dean to see his brother in so much pain, to see that he wasn’t getting any better, and to know that there was nothing he could do, not a deal he could make to help him. So instead he just did whatever he could to keep the kid alive.

“Why?” Sam asked, looking at Dean intently.

The question shocked Dean. Sam didn’t go through any extra effort. He followed where Dean dragged, went through the motions, didn’t ask why or where. This was new, and Dean didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Why do you have to eat? ‘Cause you’re human, humans gotta eat to live.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we need energy to do stuff, Sam. Come on, you know this.”

“No, I mean why…” Why do I have to live?

He wanted to say it, wanted to beg his brother to kill him. He thought maybe he did during that first week, when he was delirious with pain and loss. He wanted to ask now, but he didn’t, because Dean’s face fell even lower, like he knew what Sam wanted to say, and Sam remembered everything his older brother had done for him. He remembered Dean selling his soul and going to hell just to save him. As much as he wanted to die, he couldn’t do it at the expense of his older brother, so he licked his lips and said, “Okay”, standing up on shaky legs, ready to walk down to Bobby’s kitchen and eat breakfast. Then he would do something besides stare at a wall and think. He’d read a book, or watch television, or something, whatever it took to take a little weight off Dean’s shoulders. Sam would take that weight. It was his to bare, anyway. Besides, it’s not like he would feel it over the _throb, throb, throb_ of pain coming from his missing half.


End file.
